"Eileen, this is your mother's doctor. You need to take her to emergency."
"Eileen, my doctor is trying to reach you. Call her back."
"Eileen, it's your mother's doctor again. Call me."
And so on. Try not freaking out with those types of messages.
I called Dr. Sidhu and learned Mom indeed needed to go to emergency. Earlier that day, for some mysterious reason, her stomach had bloated to three times its normal size and and her doctor had ordered a Cat Scan. The results just came in; her stomach was filled with water and needed to be drained right away.
I picked Mom up . She looked 12 months pregnant and was in obvious distress. She could hardly walk with her suddenly huge extended belly. We arrived at emergency and signed in at 4:00 pm.
Waited 30 minutes. Moved to a room. Waited 30 minutes. Met with the doctor. Waited 30 minutes. Prepped for the procedure. Waited 30 minutes. Waited for the procedure. Waited 30 minutes. Waited 30 minutes. Waited 30 minutes.
And so on.
Finally, at 8:30 pm the seas parted, the angles sang, and the great almighty doctor appeared. A decent guy, actually. I was just tired and stressed to capacity by then, watching my poor mother writhing with discomfort. He punctured her abdomen with some horrendous midieval apparatus that resembled a knitting needle and began draining the water from her stomach.
And in the process, filled THREE liter-sized bottles. Mom's bloated belly collapsed to its normal size and the result was instantaneous. The poor thing sighed in relief... ahhhhhh.....
But what caused this water build-up to begin with? The doctor discussed three possibilities.
- an infection
- liver problems OR
- a word I can't bear to mention. A word I hope doesn't rear its ugly head again, now or ever.
So when the pathology report comes in next week, I'm expecting one more call from Dr. Sidhu. One in which I'm hoping she says that Mom just has some weird infection and a good ol' dose of antibiotics will do the trick.